


patton's sick (it's snot funny)

by lovelylogans



Series: tumblr fics [16]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Cuddle Pile, Domestic Fluff, Gen, Sickfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-05
Updated: 2018-04-05
Packaged: 2020-12-31 03:04:48
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,248
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21059420
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovelylogans/pseuds/lovelylogans
Summary: Patton was trying to be better about hiding things.It was just sometimes, there were little things that seemed too silly to mention.I felt sad for a little because I saw a sad post about a dogdidn’t feel particularly pressing, so he just didn’t mention it.The fact that he’d been holed up in his room, feeling like he was coughing his heart out into his hands, was probably not quite a little thing.





	patton's sick (it's snot funny)

**Author's Note:**

> anonymous asked: Prompt: Patton is sick but doesn’t want the others to worry so he hides it for like 2 days. Virgil notices something wrong right away, but doesn’t say anything. It’s not until Patton starts burning up and feeling really drowsy that Verge starts to worry, and then they all help Patton and cuddle together and it’s just a happy fluffy ending or something like that. You can add your own twist onto this, if you want!! Congrats on all the followers!! You absolutely deserve them!!  
lovelylogans said: ooOOH yes okay!! thank you so much for the prompt and the kind words!

Patton was trying to be better about hiding things.

It was just sometimes, there were little things that seemed too silly to mention. _I felt sad for a little because I saw a sad post about a dog_ didn’t feel particularly pressing, so he just didn’t mention it.

The fact that he’d been holed up in his room, feeling like he was coughing his heart out into his hands, was probably not quite a little thing. 

But by the time he realized the tickle in his throat had grown into sweating, shivering, and coughing (_so_ much coughing) he felt too tired to get up and go get anything, so he curled up on his bed, trying his best to fall asleep and hope against the odds that he’d be all better with some rest.

Patton was miserable. In one second, he was too cold under the blankets and coiled into a tiny ball in an attempt to conserve heat; in the next, he was kicking the covers off and starfishing on his bed, trying to cool down. His throat ached and hurt, and he wished for it all to just be _better._ Patton always felt so _miserable_ when he was sick; it was his body trying to fight off disease, he knew, but he couldn’t help but feel like it was betraying him by acting this way. 

He had just kicked off the covers in frustration for the thirteen billionth time when a knock sounded on the door.

“Come in,” Patton rasped as loudly as he could, and winced at the raw feeling in his throat, the way the words seemed to scrape as he spoke. He sat up and squinted at the door, tapping around on his nightstand for his glasses and moving to stand up.

“Hey there, kidd—_whoa,”_ Patton said as he stood, stumbling to sit on the ground, his vision more full of black than color, head spinning.

“Oh, God,” Patton heard Virgil say, and then he felt a cold hand against his neck, pushing his head between his knees. “Just breathe, Pat, you’ll feel less bad soon.”

Patton did as Virgil said, taking in soft, whistling breaths through his stuffed nose and breathing slowly out of his mouth. “Sorry,” Patton mumbled to his knees.

“Don’t apologize, that’s what you’re always telling me, right?” Virgil said, and his hand squeezed on Patton’s neck. “I knew you were sick, why didn’t you say it was this bad?”

Patton only groaned, carefully blinking his eyes open, and blinking the last of the black out his vision. He sat up straighter, carefully, and said at last, “I thought it’d go away.”

Virgil sighed, a little, and Patton glanced over in time to see him rubbing his hoodie sleeves between his fingers. “Okay. Um, I’m gonna—um,” he said, and looked at Patton in askance. “What do you, like. Need?” 

Patton paused, considering, and croaked out, “Water.”

“Water,” Virgil said, seizing the word. “Okay, I can, uh, I can do that. You should, um, get back into bed.”

“Okay,” Patton mumbled—his brief stand and the subsequent dizzy spell took a lot out of him, it seemed, and sleep sounded better than ever. He crawled back onto his bed, and Virgil hesitated, before awkwardly patting him on the top of the head.

“Uh. We’ll take care of you, you’ll be better soon,” he said, and practically dashed out of the room. Patton squinted at his back.

_We?_

He didn’t have long to wonder, as not long after Virgil left he felt the mattress dip with added weight, and he squinted, mouth half open to thank Virgil for the water, only to squint some more.

“Apologies in advance for any of your anticipations of a me having a kind bedside manner,” Logan said, before holding up a thermometer. “Mouth open.”

Patton gave him a look until Logan sighed and added a grudging, “_Please.”_

Patton opened his mouth, and Logan stuck the thermometer under his tongue, tapping at his chin to get him to close his mouth again.

“Where’s Virgil?” Patton asked around the thermometer, but it sounded more like a muddled _wrsvirgl?_

“Rounding up all the blankets in the house and frantically googling how to take care of a sick person, I’d expect,” Logan said, and said, sterner, “Mouth _shut,_ it won’t work if you talk.”

Patton closed his lips around the thermometer, and watched as Logan dug around a first aid kit until the thermometer beeped. Logan removed it from Patton’s mouth and tsked.

“What?” Patton asked. “What’s that sound mean?”

“It means bed rest for you,” Logan said, frowning at the thermometer, and just then the door opened again, bringing the final and most flamboyant roommate.

“_Dearest_ Patton, you’ve fallen ill,” Roman declared, holding a tray and bustling over to his bedside. “Not to worry, we’ve got it all handled!”

Patton pushed himself up onto his elbows to investigate the tray, only for Roman to lovingly shove him back down onto his pillows.

“I’ve got a cold cloth for your head,” Roman said, laying said cold cloth into place, “and all kinds of cough drops that don’t taste like actual death, and a half-finished playlist on your phone, and some—“

“Yes, that’s all well and good,” Logan cut in, “but did you bring the ibuprofen?”

Roman passed over a bottle, and continued as if Logan hadn’t interrupted him at all. “—and some pillow spray to help you sleep, and some cozy socks for you to wear, and—”

“I’ve got the water,” Virgil announced from the door, and Patton watched bemused as Virgil sat down on the bed, the space getting rather cramped with four fully grown men all on a cheap mattress, handing over a massive water bottle that probably would have been better suited for a marathon runner.

But Patton was feeling pretty thirsty, so he pushed himself back up onto his elbows (without Roman shoving him back down this time) and took it, also accepting the ibuprofen Logan pushed into his hands.

“Drink slowly,” Logan added, and Patton shot him a fond look before he started to drink, taking exaggeratedly slow gulps. The icy water against his throat was a soothing, temporary balm against the scratchy, hot feeling in his throat, and Patton sighed in relief, laying back down and setting the water bottle back on the bedside table.

“Do you want anything else?” Roman asked, actually wringing his hands. “We can get it for you, no matter what it is.”

Patton paused, considering. He didn’t feel thirsty anymore, and the cool cloth on his forehead felt nice. He really mostly just felt _gross,_ icky and blah. Just generally miserable and _bad._

He said carefully, “I don’t want you guys to get sick—”

“We’ve all probably been exposed to it anyway,” Logan said helpfully.

“Cuddle pile?” Patton asked, soft.

The three of them exchanged a glance, and Virgil, with a stubborn set to his jaw, said, “Sure.”

“Okay, how are we doing this,” Roman said, already shifting, and said without looking over, “Come on, nerd, you aren’t getting out of this, Patton is sick and you’ve already been exposed—“

“Yes, all right, fine,” Logan said, and they all shifted, the other three making Patton move the least until Patton was in the midst of a cuddle pile, full of twisting limbs and body parts against other body parts, and surrounded by the warmth and comforting timber of his friends’ voices, Patton was feeling better already.


End file.
